Janey.
The name of my little friend, whose picture you see on the last page, is Janey; and I will tell you how I became acquainted with her.
One very cold day in December last year, just before Christmas time, I was walking rather briskly in a London street near my own house, with a certain pair of little pattering feet trotting along beside me, and a certain pair of bright blue eyes looking alternately up to my face and at the brilliantly decorated shops. Now and then we stopped to look in at the windows of the toy-shops, and see the beautiful toys, and other pretty things displayed there. And now and then we did still better, for we went in at the glass doors, and mingling with a host of other merry Christmas folk, bought some of the pretty things we had been looking at from the outside. Both Lily and I would come out of the shops laden with such a number of parcels—such a load of dolls and horses, balls and musical instruments, that it was a wonder and a puzzle to ourselves how we contrived to carry them all. I think my little Lily’s slender arms grew stronger and longer for the occasion. Once, too, we went into a pastrycook’s, and came out with still an additional parcel or two: these were intended for the little ones at home.
My Lily and I had lately made several expeditions of this kind in the service of a certain giant tree at home. For a long time this tree seemed insatiable: the greedy branches never had enough, though every day new ornaments, or toys, or trinkets of some sort were hung upon them. But to-day’s was to be our last expedition; we needed only a few toys to fill up some gaps near the foot of our great Christmas tree.
We had just made up our minds to go into no more shops, but hurry home with the purchases we had made, when, in turning a corner, Lily ran up against a poor little girl scarcely bigger than herself, though probably about eight years old. The little girl had on a dress with short sleeves, although it was so cold; she had a little three-cornered grey woollen shawl upon her shoulders, and a torn straw hat upon her head. This little girl was Janey; and my Lily, who was walking very fast, had almost knocked her over.
As the two children recovered from the shock, I saw Janey turn her pretty brown eyes wistfully towards the parcels of toys and sugar-plums we were carrying; when Lily, touched at the sight of the forlorn little girl, suddenly held out half-a-crown, which had been clutched in her hand ever since we had been out. This half-crown had been given to her that morning by her god-father, and she had brought it out to spend it, but had not done so. I thought it rather much to give to a strange child; but I said nothing, as the girl had already got the money safe in her poor little cold red hand.
“It was my own, you know, mamma dear,” pleaded my Lily, perhaps reading my thoughts.
“Yes, dear,” I replied, as I watched the expression of delight in both the children’s faces: one delighted at receiving, the other at giving the present.
The strange child murmured some words of thanks, and we continued on our way. We had not gone far, however, when I discovered that I had lost my purse, and feeling sure that I had left it on the counter in the last shop we had been to, I and Lily began to retrace our steps as quickly as we could. We had not gone far when we came in sight of the little girl again. She was standing in front of a toy shop, as you see her in the picture; she held the half-crown in her hand, and was glancing, sometimes at the shop window, sometimes at some oranges on a fruit stall in the street, seeming undecided what to buy. Just before we reached her, however, she appeared to have made up her mind, and without entering the shop, she trotted briskly on in front of us.
Presently we saw her walk into a baker’s shop; we passed it, but had not gone far beyond, before she overtook us, walking very fast, and carrying two large loaves under her shawl. Then I stopped her, and asked where she was going.
“Home, ma’am,” she said; “I am taking mother this bread for our little ones: they are so hungry!”
“You didn’t buy yourself a toy, nor even an orange then?” I said. “But you have still money enough to do so.”
“Oh, I have lots left out of what the little lady gave me, but I would rather, please, take it all home to mother. She would give us toys if she could, but it is hard for her to give us bread, and I know she will spend the money better than I can. I did stop at the toy shop window, ma’am, but I am very glad I didn’t buy anything.”
And this was Christmas time!—the time, above all others in the year, when we should help each other, in remembrance of Him who came to us one Christmas night, and living on the earth among the poor, taught us by His precept and example to love and succour all our poorer brethren.
We walked with little Janey to see her mother, and her home, which was very near; and I think the readers of “Wide-awake” will be glad to hear that Janey, her mother, and the little ones have not suffered from want of bread since that day. Besides, on Christmas day itself they had a real Christmas dinner, with roast beef and plum-pudding, and oranges; and good little Janey had some toys given to her into the bargain.
PUZZLE-PAGE.
Now, little people, see if you can guess this puzzle-page. One of these objects begins with L, one with N, one with R, two with T, and one with W.
